


The Clouds, The Wind, The Stars and The Moon Know Not

by fandomfairytales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Astoria!Kosciey, BAMF Hermione Granger, Draco finds it sexy af, Draco!Princess Miranda, F/M, FUNCTIONAL FUCKING ARMOUR, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, HEA, Hermione!Hero, Historical Fantasy, Kosciey is king of the underworld, Miranda and Hero, Pining, Premonitions, Tags Are Hard, also how could I pass up giving him the medusa ice stare, and thirsty! hallelujah, basically Polish Hades, basically my muse wanted Draco to be the damsel in distress, but wait... is that a gender role reversal, i swear it makes more sense than this, it counts as, lonely, looks like I'm turning this myth on its head, sappyness, she's a warrior, slight angst, smutty dreams, so heres the casting, tagging the fact i am giving her, these two are so soft, this is just gratuitous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales
Summary: Based on the Polish tale ofMiranda and HeroDraco is the crown prince of a rich island nation, plagued by powers beyond his control and dreams of a woman he has never met; he is stalked, pursued and eventually imprisoned the wicked goddess Astoria (Kosciey) ascended from the underworld.Hermione, a formidable warrior in her own right never put much stock in magic, but when the sun speaks of truths and dangers she had already dreamt, she must embark on a quest to save the man she loves from an impossible, seemingly unbeatable foe.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: Where Gods Dwell: A Dramione Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well, well; guess who signed up for a fest and suppressed the fact it existed until a week before the deadline
> 
> me, to me: ITS YOU BISH! 
> 
> my guilty conscience: *facepalms* 
> 
> Anyway, last-minute writing aside, I had a lot of fun planning out and writing this and I really appreciated the chance to honour my Polish heritage with an adaptation of a childhood bedtime story I had all but forgotten 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fun little fic

oOo

It was such a tedious thing, being pursued. Being desired but never truly _wanted_ and yes, Prince Draco knew there was a significant difference.

Women travelled to his marble palace from every nook and cranny of the earth; royalty, nobility, gentry, daughters of knights, farmers, butchers and bakers and candlestick makers, all journeyed with the intent of trying for his hand. The attractive, unwed prince of a rich island nation, scion of the great house of Malfoy was simply too tempting a promise to resist. But they all inevitably, tragically failed in their foolish quests to win his love, for they always seemed to forget the most important part of his reputed tale.

He was cursed you see… Or blessed, depending on the weather or the woman.

Unfortunately, the moment he decided he could not love them, his gaze would turn them to ice. The fact they continued to dock in his kingdom in spite of such (true) rumours was the true curse, they never learned their lesson and the reward was never greater than the risk.

Their fate was always the same, right down to the icy, preserved expression of their final agonised scream. Women rich beyond belief, legendary beauties, warriors, cruel minded ladies and kind-hearted girls with flowers in their hair and youthful hope in their eyes shared alike in their destiny.

They always vanished after, usually the moment he turned away, consumed by self-disgust (the perfect moment if there was one, he could never bear to turn around to catch them being removed or ‘magically disappearing’). He never knew where they went; perhaps they melted? Logic made him suspect that someone had the woeful task of moving them, but he’d never managed to get a word out of his staff.

At least he could console himself (or his trusted Council of Twelve could in his stead) with the fact there was a good reason for his lack of affection. His heart was not a free commodity, no matter how impossible the circumstances.

It belonged to a woman like no other. A woman he had dreamed of countless times, the image of her so tangible he truly believed one day, he would witness her riding toward him on her skeletal winged horse, riotous, chestnut curls emerging from beneath a golden helm in the shape of a lion’s gaping maw, her polished golden armour sparkling in the morning sun or perhaps reflecting midnight and a million stars…

He sighed, trying to put her from his mind to focus on his duties. He didn’t even know her name; and yet, he was besotted. Consulting his advisors was difficult enough without the folly of distraction in the form of her curves and radiant smile which appeared behind his eyelids in the gentle embrace of slumber.

It would be so easy to nod off while they droned on about landowners or taxes (perhaps it was the landowners complaining about the taxes? He wasn’t certain); but it was important he try to listen for the good of his subjects…Another hour to sundown and he could dismiss them in favour of a light supper, a good book and when he was finally tired and able, the welcome warmth of his bed.

He watched the light slink away, replaced by shadows, feeling his excitement at the prospect grow.

But unbeknownst to the young prince, his excitement was misplaced, had he been able to see what the shadows carried it would have been replaced with dread and soul-consuming terror.

A powerful deity from the depths of the underworld had heard tales from the recently deceased and decided she wished to possess him; Fables about his beauty, prestige and of course the way his grey eyes held ladies captive before they froze to death as punishment for persisting, showing their truly evil natures or attempting to force his hand in marriage; made her long for that which she could not have. His resistance was a siren’s call to the entitled.

Unseen, the goddess Astoria lurked through the palace, an invisible voyeur stalking her prey, hopefully for the last time, watching over what she coveted as he slept, innocent, handsome and unaware; she was always long gone before he rose, however, the suspicious feeling he was being watched always lingered.

Having gathered her power while he fended off frivolity, proposals and attempts at courtship, Astoria rallied her army with a cry, struck the earth three times, speaking an ancient incantation and ascended.

Her physical form was gruesome. Her skeletal, emaciated body was only exaggerated by her loosely draped chiton. The handful of mortals that witnessed her rise into to the land of the living immediately found themselves her newest subjects. Weak-hearted, cowards the lot of them. Her army trampled their corpses into the earth as they began their siege: Meanwhile, a brave watchman with a will made of steel ran through the night with news for the prince from the farthest shore.

Admirals, Generals and all manner of personnel arrived within an hour. Draco’s great hall became a war room where they discussed defences, protection and succession in rapid-fire, with little care for the feelings of the sovereign who sat on the throne listening to their thinly veiled whingeing about the situation he had placed them in.

“Why can’t he freeze them?”

“Mythical soldiers from the underworld? Are you mad, they would be immune!”

“We don’t know for sure.”

“Well perhaps we could place him in danger for our own sake…”

“And if this-this _demoness_ murders him… What then? We have no available heir!”

“Then we know what we must do.”

“I say we put our best legion in front of his highness.”

“And what… Expect them to stand there and be slaughtered?”

“GET OUT!!!”

Draco was exhausted. Discussions had been going on for hours and they were no closer to a decision on how to best deal with the threat and havoc the otherworldly woman wrought.

His anger twisted and grew while his tone darkened, barely more than a whisper it carried the weight of a scream.

“All of you get out… Tell everyone that does not wish to fight to run as fast and as far as they can.”

His advisors stared, the generals muttered their displeasure and yet the moment they noted the prince’s stony expression they bowed politely before scurrying off to do his bidding.

By nightfall the palace was fuller than he expected as he watched on from the astronomy tower while his people evacuated, they spilt out of the city gates, eddying like floodwater in their rush.

And then they began to fall.

Most dropped instantaneously, others staggered and slipped unwillingly until everyone was strewn around the gates.

Then he saw her.

The watchman hadn’t been wrong. She was a walking horror. Fear gripped his heart but Draco refused to let it reach his features, he would not show weakness now.

‘Let her come’ he thought vindictively.

It was reckless, but he had to admit he wanted to see if his power was a match for such a being.

The closer she came to the gates the more he doubted himself. His men fell, then his advisors, then his Council of Twelve and finally he realised she had forced them into a deep sleep.

He would face her alone.

She reached the portcullis unopposed and with every step, he could not see but knew she took, he was filled with bitter rage.

The moment she shattered the doors to his throne room, her intentions booming and echoing off the crisp white, stone walls, he exploded; his power nebulous and devastating, freezing everything in its path including the arrogant goddess that had invaded his land.

He was no fool. The moment she was indisposed Draco made his escape. What else could he do?

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to hold her long. She pursued for a time until she realised it was futile; after that, it didn’t take long for his advantage to slip, she gained the upper hand by doing the one thing he didn’t expect; leaving.

In her stead, she left his castle surrounded, putting his last few defences to sleep; every exit swarmed with her soldiers, the secret tunnels were heavily guarded and to top it all off, she had placed an infallible sentinel; a twelve headed dragon, right at his gate.

He’d never thought freedom was something he would grieve in his lifetime; and yet, salty tears dripped down his face until his body was wracked with sobs.

His people suffered on his behalf and would continue to do so; his army, his advisors and worst of all his twelve closest friends; What could he do but give up all hope and surrender?

No!

That would not do.

Trapped in his apartments without a soul to hear his pathetic cries, he turned his face to the clouds with a wish held deep in his heart that the warrior he dreamed of might swoop in and save the day.

“Is she even real?” He screamed to no one. or so he thought

An unexpected voice drifted down from the heavens but he did not react; his concept of reality was so fragile he was hardly concerned about hearing a disembodied voice from above.

“You know in your heart she is.”

He stared at the clouds drifting past, wondering if they would answer a second time.

“Then where is she?”

“We know not… Ask the Wind, it knows more than I.”

So, he did. And when the Wind explained that he knew nothing, Draco asked the Stars, then the Moon and finally, the Sun.

His sorrow unbridled, tears began to slip unbidden down his cheeks and the Sun, feeling sympathetic, shone a little brighter to dry his tears while it told the young prince all it knew of his beloved.

“She is coming for you. From the depths of the sea, she will rise triumphant and make her way to liberate your kingdom. But she cannot defeat Astoria by mortal means; her quest will be arduous, but I will hasten her to you, I will guide her.”

Shielding his eyes from the piercing rays, he thanked the Sun profusely for its kindness and compassion, bidding it goodnight as it slipped below the horizon.

He was elated, high on the knowledge the woman he had envisaged and wished for was real. She was the match that set the deep, twisted forest of his loneliness ablaze. There was no way to describe how freeing it was, after so many years pining for a future he thought reality had denied him, having it in his grasp provided more hope than he knew what to do with.

oOo


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phew, chapter 2 is finally here; I am so sorry about the wait, it took longer than I thought to be happy with it, so, I sat on it for an extra few days (ain't anxiety fun?), I got there in the end though <3
> 
> also, I must apologise that about 3/4 of this isn't betad, I just really wanted to get it posted for you all so bear with me, I've done my best to weed out the mistakes (if I catch any when I'm less sleep deprived I'll edit them asap) 
> 
> Max 2 more chapters to go (3 if I end up doing an epilogue for the sake of fluffy smut, which we all know I would totally do) should be complete by monday (I hope haha)

oOo

Hermione had never put much stock in dreams or their meanings. She considered seers and soothsayers charlatans at best, any sort of divination or communion with the spirit world was simply an elaborate hoax and fate... Well, that was for her to decide and control.

Sure there were Gods and Goddesses, and of course, she believed in them because unlike many people, she had seen them personally, but they were little more than gifted humans with abnormally long lifespans (evidenced by the sea god she had just defeated); but that did not mean she had to accept the rest of society’s opinions regarding supernatural mumbo jumbo. 

The universe naturally decided it was high time to prove her wrong. 

The first time she dreamt of a man with striking grey eyes, platinum hair and a smile like spring, she dismissed it as nothing more than her mind and heart playing tricks. Lonely for far too long, leading the life of an altruistic warrior, it made sense for a handsome suitor to invade her dreams; after all, it was her deepest and most secret desire to be loved for who she was and love someone in return. 

The second time, he spoke, his dulcet voice like honey and sunshine with a regal quality she hadn’t heard since she left her parents court, unwilling to sacrifice her freedom for the man they had deemed worthy of it. And what he had to say… Well, he was a perfect match to her intelligence, to say the least; even if his greeting was somewhat brash and laced with profanity. 

They conversed for what seemed like days on a myriad of subjects; books felt like five minutes and an age for all they tried to cram into it. 

That was the catalyst for her fall. 

The first time they touched, almost a month later, it was purely an experiment, pushing the bounds of old superstitions; but there was no mistaking the sensation of his fingertips against her own trembling hand. It bore two important truths; there were things in this world she had never dreamed were possible, and he was out there somewhere in the mortal realm, waiting for her to seek him out.

In the meantime, the tentative love between them only grew until one night she found herself swathed in moonlight and his rich sheets. Every sensation was heightened and tangible; His large hands warming her bare skin, a puff of breath on her cheek when he moved to suck at her pulse point, the weight of his body resting over her own. 

It was too vivid to be a figment of her imagination. 

He held her tenderly, hovering carefully above her while she wound her fingers through his silky hair, a vain attempt at pulling him closer. He bent to kiss her lips hesitantly until passion overtook them both and his fingers mercifully began to journey south. When he discarded her clothes into the abyss beyond the bed, he worshipped her body until she begged for more; obligingly freeing his erection, pushing himself inside, taking her maidenhead with a gentleness she hadn’t expected, remaining still and cradled between her thighs until she nodded for him to continue. 

They moved together in perfect harmony, fervent and adoring and she couldn’t resist watching herself taking every physical and metaphorical inch he gave her. It was hypnotic, their bodies entwined, sweat shimmering faintly in the moonlight until she couldn’t bear to look or hold back her bliss any longer. Intense pleasure crashed down on her like a wave breaking on the shore, so much so it jolted her awake, shattering the illusion. 

After that, sleep had been impossible (she was half mad with the need to find real, physical completion outside her dreams) and she had to admit that she was glad her recently acquired army was mythical, existing in another dimension until called upon. It meant she had the privacy to relieve the throbbing ache between her thighs, her fingers sliding over slick flesh with practised ease nowhere near as satisfying as the fantasy of his technique, but still enough to get the job done more than a few times. 

She was a frustrated wreck after that. Every night it was more of the same. Sometimes they’d talk, He’d tell her what he could about his life, she would return the favour and inevitably if they weren’t interrupted, she would find herself in his bed, always waking right as she was about to come, forced to finish the job in the real world. 

As she continued to travel, spending her days helping anyone she could in every village she passed, and dreaming of her lover by night, Hermione began to wonder why they were connected.

It seemed such curious questioning was her downfall, for the next night she did not dream at all. 

And so, it continued for the following three. 

After a fourth night of fitful sleep, without a glimpse of her beloved, concern morphed into crippling fear for her dear Draco. 

She woke with a start the following morning, quickly packing up her tiny camp and smothering the fire before setting off in the direction of the nearest port. It wouldn’t be an entirely pleasant trip, but she was determined to find the truth of his absence and reassure herself of his safety. 

She slung her pack up onto her steed and readied to mount when she was startled by an unexpected, booming voice in the sky. 

“Child, you must take a different course!” 

She stood stock-still, unsure of how to react or even where to look and instead braced herself to listen or accept that she had gone mad. 

“Your beloved pleaded with the heavens to know of you; I carry his dire message.” 

“Dire? Who are you that you know this? Show yourself!” she shouted to no one, her eyes searching for a source.

“I am the Sun, I am the one who lights your way and rises to warm the land, all you need do is look up and you shall see.”

Hermione did as she was bid, one hand shielding her eyes as she took a quick glance only to see the truth in the Sun’s face. 

“Please, I beg you, tell me what my beloved said!?” 

“Prince Draco’s kingdom has fallen prey to a goddess, one that revels in death and suffering; his more than anyone else’s.”

“Then why should I not rush to his aid with my army in tow to defeat her?”

“Because little one, she cannot be killed by mortal methods. The Moon and I would not see you die in vain, my partner has taken quite a shine to the two of you, and if she is unhappy, I must be too.” 

“Is he safe? _Can_ he wait?”

“Yes… _Trapped_ , but safe. There is little use answering the rest; he has no option bar patience if he wishes to be free of Astoria.” 

“How do I defeat her?”

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you, after all, she is my blood and I am sworn to do no harm; you must seek the witch Minerva; she can teach you, but you will need to leave your mare behind. Ride her east until you find a lush green meadow, there you will find an iron door protected by fire. Solve the puzzle and you will find a steed faster than the wind to carry you, and a more useful weapon against Astoria’s beasts.” 

“How do I know this witch will help me?”

“Minerva is a good and kind woman; she will listen to your tale and decide… Now, no more questions child, you are wasting precious time; GO!” 

Feeling the heat radiate off the sun at his urgent request, she immediately mounted her steadfast grey mare and rode east fast as she could. 

It took three days and three nights to reach the meadow, stopping only to feed and water Crookshanks she made good time, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy her. 

Draco was imprisoned, with no one to help him, and the sun expected him to be patient? 

As she travelled, she tried to set the grim possibilities and scenarios from her mind, praying that he could wait for her to complete her quest before either losing faith and hope completely or doing something imbecilic and getting himself killed. 

The moment she saw the clearing, tears of relief slid down her cheeks. The iron door was there, the sun had spoken true and Draco would soon be in her arms. 

She dismounted, hitching the increasingly nervous sorrel mare to a nearby tree and marched toward her challenge. 

One over-eager step too many and she was scrambling away from the intense flames that sprang up before her. 

It had to be the puzzle… 

She jumped to her feet and approached hesitantly. 

The flames began to calm and as they receded into two, coloured walls surrounding the door, a stone table shimmered into existence before her. Small bottles of varied shape, size and content sat in a neat little row with a folded sheet of singed parchment that upon closer inspection contained a riddle.

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;  
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,  
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Hermione thought for a moment, taking her time to read through the clue before deciding on a course of action. It was nothing but a test of logic and she was more than clever enough to beat it, with a quick prayer and another read through just to be certain, she selected two bottles, one to allow her passage through each wall of flame and pressed on.

She passed the first wall with ease, her heart pounding so hard she could practically hear it fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings. She entered the second with a bracing wince; for all her confidence it still terrified her, but the flame had no effect and she quickly bounded through the door, shutting it tight behind her. 

Wandering down a torchlit corridor, she marvelled at the magic that must have been expended to create such a portal her eyes darting to flickering sconces and ornate doors she could simply tell were not the ones she required. 

Her instincts were tingling and she could feel the guiding hand of the beyond leading her to her prize. The last door on the right was simpler than the others, hardly as interesting in her opinion; but it felt right. 

She turned the knob and opened it carefully, not wanting to startle whatever rested behind the aged wood. 

The moment she began to approach the sleeping mass in the shadows she was met with a gust of wind so unexpected and forceful she was pushed almost back to the threshold. The creature had moved so fast she barely perceived it! Face to face with the animal, she had to admit he was like no stallion she had ever seen; it looked malnourished, barely more than a skeleton (and yet it was so strong), its leathery wings were translucent in the low light and its skin was darker than midnight. 

It was beautiful and terrifying. 

She took a willing, respectful step back as it stared her down. 

Her eyes still adjusting it took her a moment to notice its chains. She counted twelve, made of pure silver to bind the creature in its dingy stable; her heart broke a little seeing such a majestic creature suffer such injustice. 

Reaching a tentative hand to its face, she waited for it to accept her. 

“You needn’t do that.”

She jumped, snatching her hand away as though the flames outside had returned. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you apologising or asking what you should be sorry for?”

She frowned at the beast, answering definitively. 

“I was apologising.”

“Very well, I accept. Now, why have you come?” 

She almost giggled at how curt the creature was, it was a refreshing surprise. 

“The Sun sent me. I need to kill a goddess but first I must seek the witch, Minerva to learn Astoria's weakness.”

“Then you are here to bargain? To ask me if I will take you in exchange for my freedom?”

“No!”

“Do not lie. It is a dishonourable practise your species seems to excel at and I am old enough to see through the charade.” 

Feeling her anger and frustration rise, Hermione was not about to justify its statement. Instead she drew her sword and hacked at the chains; an awful clanging filling the silence and by some miracle she had sliced clean through it with hardly any effort at all (perhaps they were magical too? Easier to cut if your intentions were pure?).

“I would free you with no deal or bargain required… I wouldn’t wish this confinement on my worst enemy.”

She made short work of the subsequent eleven and she could tell even the beast was impressed as she stood over the final gleaming length. It shattered in one final smooth strike that rang clear as a bell. 

“I am also old enough to know when to admit I am wrong. What is your name?”

“Hermione. And yours?” 

“It has no equivalent in your rudimentary tongue…” 

“Oh, I see.”

“It is of no consequence, Hermione, there are more important things; first, in the darkest corner of the room you will find a wooden box; take it with you, then fetch your bridle and saddle and I shall take you to Minerva.”

Doing as she was bid, she couldn’t help but wonder at her reality in the few moments she had to herself. 

Before she knew it, they were in the air and she came to know that the creature she had freed was a thestral. Almost extinct it was a possibility that he was the last of his kind and yet he had chosen to return her good deed with another, pledging to assist her until Astoria was dead. 

They raced across the sky like a comet, his flight as smooth as sailing on a glassy lake on the clearest of days. 

They passed over dense forests and snow-capped mountains and grand rivers until they were far beyond human reach. At his behest she slept in the saddle, trusting him to know the way, and when she awakened, she found herself surrounded by thick grey mist. 

“We are almost there, do not fret; our course remains true.” 

She patted his neck by way of thanks, her anticipation and anxiety growing at the prospect of what was to come. 

They touched down and were enveloped in a golden, pink sunset. Hermione could practically feel the magic emanating from the earth here, it was beyond belief; there, surrounded by a primaeval forest with trees taller than she had ever seen, was a tiny, rustic cottage. 

“Mind your manners, she does not take kindly to strangers at the best of times. When you are trained, you will know how to summon me and when it is time, I shall take you to your beloved.” 

“Thank you again.” 

“Think nothing of it… I shall see you soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for giving this a read. CH 2 WILL BE UP VERY SOON :D
> 
> feel free to drop me a line in the comments, I adore chatting with you lovely people- and/or leave me kudos, I love seeing those too, every heart makes my heart melt
> 
> A billion thanks to the MourningMadam for setting this fest up... Now I'm off to fangirl over the other works and talented authors in this brilliant fest :D


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